Sunday, May 27, 2018

Today I would like to honor the groundbreaking environmentalist Rachel Carson, whose book Silent Spring sounded one of the first alarms about the detrimental effect of pesticides on the eco-system. The natural world was my first love as a kid and reading Carson's work was instrumental in spurring me on to look deeply at and respect the complexities of our endangered environment.Carson's interest in conservation began with her early work as a marine biologist, which led to her award winning book, The Sea Around Us. Subsequently, nature writing provided a powerful vehicle for Carson to bring mainstream attention to the chemicals being dumped daily into our streams and rivers. Her work inspired global bans of the pesticide DDT and helped foster the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency in the United States.I encourage you to honor Rachel Carson's legacy by spending some time today on the Audubon Society's website, the US National Park Service's site, or your local nature conservancies information boards. All of these sites provide important information on how you can get involved and help preserve our natural world for future generations.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Gregg ChadwickThe Late Afternoon of Time - San Francisco24"x20" oil on linen 2018

Cities, like people, grow and change. In this spirit, San Francisco continues to inform my paintings. Last weekend, at a friend's birthday gathering in Culver City, I recounted how one morning, when I lived in San Francisco, I spotted the artist Richard Diebenkornleaning up against a BART entrance watching the cable car turnaround across Market Street. Diebenkorn was captivated by the movement of the conductors as they spun the cars around on a giant wooden turntable. I stopped, leaned up against a wall, and flipped through art writer Robert Hughes' book Nothing If Not Critical until I reached his essay on Diebenkorn. I read slowly, pausing often to gaze up at Diebenkorn as he gazed towards Powell Street.

Eventually, I closed the book, walked over and thanked Richard Diebenkorn for his art and inspiration. He smiled and tears seemed to well up in his eyes, as he said "Thank you. I am glad that my work inspires you. Is your studio nearby?" I nodded and tried to say something "about the interplay between figuration and abstraction in his work." Diebenkorn was frail at this point and seemed to know that he didn't have much longer to live. I didn't want to take him away from his moment alone in the morning light on Market Street. I thanked him again and moved on. Richard Diebenkorn died soon after in 1993.

The late morning light, when it cuts through the fog in downtown San Francisco, opens the city up like an epiphany. That morning was a revelation for me. Lawrence Ferlinghetti saw something similar in the City's light and wrote,"

"And then the halcyon late mornings
after the fog burns off
and the sun paints white houses
with the sea light of Greece
with sharp clean shadows
making the town look like

it had just been painted."

I learned something profound that morning when I encountered Diebenkorn - my heroes were mortal. And in turn, my family and friends also had a short time on earth. Life is fragile. I looked at the streets anew. Around us and beneath us memories dwelt. A friend of mine who made his way from place to place along Market Street slid up to me one day at the corner of 6th and Market and showed me a horses skull in his battered shopping cart. "I was helping a man dig out his basement and I hit something hard", he said. "We found an entire skeleton buried there. Probably from the earthquake - from '07"

Later I read that the cable cars were built because the horses kept breaking down on the steep San Francisco hills. The horses legs would snap under the weight. Maybe my friend's horse pulled a burden up Jones Street until collapse?

An immigrant from Scotland devised a system to carry cars and passengers up the steep slopes without animal power. Gary Kamiya writes in The Chronicle:

"At a little before midnight on Aug. 2, 1873, the men in the power plant fired up the boilers. The engines turned over and the cables tightened. The rope began to hum in the street, the first occasion of a sound that would become as familiar to San Franciscans as Bow Bells to a London cockney.

At 5 a.m., the team gathered atop Clay at Jones. Andrew Hallidie’s gripman, reportedly an old locomotive engineer, looked down the 16 percent grade into the fog and chickened out. But Halide, who had been hurled off scaffolding, buried in a tunnel and gone for a real-life Logger’s Revenge on roiling rapids, had confidence in his invention. He jumped into the dummy, took the grip, picked up the cable below and began to descend Clay Street. When the car reached the bottom, it was spun around on a turntable and pulled back up to the summit."

The turntable. Diebenkorn's gaze. The Changing Light. The Late Afternoon of Time.

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Monday, May 07, 2018

4-year-old superhero using his power to feed the homeless

I am incredibly inspired by the compassion illustrated by Austin Perine from Birmingham, Alabama. CBS Sunday Morning featured the video embedded in the tweet below and it really touched my heart. Take a minute to watch and if you are inspired please click on the link below to support this young hero!

Honored that my painting Cool, Gray, City of Love will be featured in this year's 39th Venice Family Clinic's Art Walk and Auctions. In the years that I lived in San Francisco, on most weekday mornings, I would walk with my young daughter along Market Street to the Cable Car turnaround. She would board eagerly, her face pressed up against the glass as the car would climb a seemingly insurmountable hill. The Gripman would nod to me and smile as we rode together into the fog. My painting Cool, Gray, City of Love looks back to those San Francisco mornings. City of Love indeed.

Santa Monica-based artist Gregg Chadwick has been painting for three decades. His current studio is an old airplane hangar where the flurry of takeoffs and landings on the runway outside seems to creep into Chadwick’s paintings as he explores movement and travel within his light-filled paintings. His current series of paintings is entitled ‘Mystery Train’ and evokes the railways of America that Chadwick says run in his blood. His grandfather worked as a fireman, stoking coal in steam engines before advancing to train engineer on the Jersey Central Line. Chadwick often says that family gatherings brought the rhythms of the rails home. The sounds of railroad workers echoed in the music that Chadwick’s relatives played in the shadows of the train lines outside. For Chadwick and many others such as writer Greil Marcus, filmmaker Jim Jarmusch, and musicians Junior Parker and Elvis Presley, the enduring mythos of America and its legacy is wrapped in the blues notes of the song ‘Mystery Train’

Chadwick's thoughts on the intersection of art, culture, and politics can be found on his blog, Speed of Life.

Chadwick's flickr page which is often updated with new finished paintings and work in progress is at: